History In the Making
by Avengeme1941
Summary: Soon to be graduate student Alix is looking for her topic for a final thesis, while working at the Smithsonian. While there, she runs into a handsome Steve Rodgers who sweeps her off her feet. But when a mysterious file give Alix the topic for her thesis, she doesn't realize the trouble she is in. Not only are those who want power after her, but now, so is Captain America.
Music blared as the dark tunnel whizzed by. I bounced my head to the lyrics, glad I was the only one that was on the subway. The emptiness was somehow calming and allowed me to get into the zone. Normally I wasn't alone, so my little stage right now was a wonderful one. Just what I needed, because my stress level was beyond a normal level for an aspiring adult, or any sort of human. Having a moment of pure peace was all exactly what the doctor ordered.

It was my own fault, attempting to achieve a higher education while also really struggling understanding what being an adult actually meant. Trying to get my doctorate was a big task at the age of twenty-six, and I knew that going into it. Not only was it the mountains of work, but my idea that if I kept pushing important things like, oh I don't know, my dissertation, it would come to me eventually. And six months later, there was still nothing.

But I thought that I had figured it all out when I had snatched that internship at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. I could look at the countless artifacts and try to decipher a thesis and paper from the information around me. Easy enough, right? No, because after a while, the artifacts become a blur and just another object, and not a dissertation worthy one at that. Three long grueling and strenuous months later, I still had nothing. School was beginning in a few weeks, and I knew that I had to come up with SOMETHING to present to the board. At this point, I was seriously considering explaining the importance of Oscar the Grouch to American culture. That stress was causing me to lose my mind, and the only place where I could retrieve it was on the subway trip on my way to work, with my music blasting. Whatever they were singing, I didn't care. I needed the beat and the nothingness.

As the tune rang in my ears, I saw a pair of sneakers walk by. It wasn't the normal tattered sneakers of the monitor, making his rounds to make sure that there wasn't any trouble. Just a pair of simple white sneakers, with a new scuff. Still I knew whose they were. There were normally only a few people on the early morning train, therefore their faces had become almost crystal in my head, therefore I knew him. And I couldn't lie, I was excited when he was on the subway.

When he sat down, he normally sat at the end of the train, away from everyone else, and he just watched the tunnel pass. The workout clothes he wore seemed to be almost like that of the military, tan shirt and darker shorts. He was always breathing heavy, like he had just been running, but never heavy enough where it seemed like he was really pushing himself. And yet, his body was huge. His shoulders were wider than any man I had seen before, and his biceps always seemed to tug at his shirt sleeves. There were times I thought it might just rip off completely. His legs were just as muscular, and I could almost assume that the rest of his was as perfect as the parts I normally saw. But there was one part of him I never saw. His face. Always hidden under a black Orioles hat, but his blonde hair peeked out from underneath, giving me one hint of what that area looked like.

I always tried to get a glance, but I never really had a good look. I was continuously afraid that when I would look over, he would finally glance back, and that was something I just wasn't ready for. Still the parts that I did see were promising, and I always told Jenna about them.

"If you had to rate it…I mean really think and rate it, what grade would you give him?"

It was one of our weekly conversations, this mystery man on the train. Jenna loved the idea that I saw him almost every other day, and still didn't have the courage to try and say actual words to him. She was a type that would have grabbed a hold of him the first day she saw him. She was almost fascinated by my shyness. Therefore, every Thursday on our Wine and Whine night, the mystery man was brought up.

"How can I rate his face? I haven't seen it."

"Super sexy." She would say with a wink as she sipped her wine.

I would always roll my eyes. I mean she was right, what you could see was super sexy, like his cut jawline, but what if his face couldn't compete with the rest of his. Selfish and coincided, but didn't first impressions matter?

The singer continued to yell in my ear as I looked as hard as I could out of the corner of my eye at him. Again though, there was nothing, and my stop was the next one. He never got off there, so I had yet another meaningless and uneventful subway ride with him.

Yet, in a quick moment, something strange happened before my stop. Just as my music took a break, a ping went off, and I began to fumble for my phone. Then I remembered, it could be my phone. Mine was the sound of R2D2 making buzzing sounds, and my music had started up again without a hint of some sort of notification. I looked over once more, knowing that it had to be his, as we were literally the only people on the train. I saw him quickly take an old flip phone out and I had to laugh a little. He looked like the type who would have all the newest and the best, and there he was with a little flip phone. I looked back down at mine, picking a new song when I looked up at the top corner. I had no service. I actually glanced over in his direction at his phone. How was he able to get a message when I couldn't?

The jolt of the train stopping woke me from my thoughts and I remembered this was where I had to get off. I quickly grabbed my books, that I was determined to read on my commute, which I didn't touch. They were spread all over and threw them into my bag as quickly as I could. These doors waited for no one, and I needed to be on time. I began to run down the aisle as I was stuffing more and more into my bag that refused to fit. It was in this moment that I thought I had run into the closing doors. When I shook my head to regain my surroundings, I saw him standing if front of me. Mystery man apparently decided that this was the day that his stop was here as well. In that second after the collision, I looked up and for the first time since I had laid eyes on him, we met. But it wasn't with words. It was by me almost becoming decapitated by his shoulder.

I had smacked my head on the outer side of his shoulder, and took a few steps back. The strength was more than I ever thought, and I honesty was considering the fact that I may have had a concussion. I rubbed my head, and felt an arm steady me.

"Are you ok?"

I didn't have time. I could hear the train giving the signal that this was the last call for exit and entrance. I swore, knowing I didn't have time to finally be brave, as my internship was too important. I nodded, finally pushing the last of my belongings into my bag. Then looking towards the door, refusing to make eye contact, I patted him on his massive shoulder. "No worries big guy! I'm fine!" I yelled as I ran out the doors.

It wasn't until I was above ground that I realized what exactly had happened. We had made contact. The two of us. I mean for me this was a big step, seeing as human contact wasn't something you have too much when you were on your way to a doctorate. Or socially awkward. And I said words, like English words. And they didn't stammer. I was ready to accept my gold medal for my awesomeness.

But as life does, I began to rethink what I said and I could feel the color flushing to my face. Why did I say those words? Out of everything in my knowledge…those were the words I chose? Big guy? That was the name I gave him, and it was the worst name possible. I shook my head and pushed it out of my thoughts. If I ever saw him again, I knew that it would go back to the same routine. Neither of us acknowledging each other's presence. And I was ok with that. At least I had a good story for Wine and Whine.

Little did I know my story was really only just beginning.


End file.
